


Guns + Ammunition

by Bitter_Brew_Barista



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But he’s Jacob, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, I haven’t decided yet, Jacob Is Trying, Jacob Seed Lives, Joseph Seed is not that great here, M/M, No Beta, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rook is a mess, Soft Jacob Seed, We Die Like Men, like always, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitter_Brew_Barista/pseuds/Bitter_Brew_Barista
Summary: “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The man says, seemingly unwillingly, and suddenly Rook’s seeing a tired and beaten down man at the end of his rope, as Jacob sags from his usual composed posture.Rook can make out dark smudges beneath the man’s eyes, exhaustion written in every line of his face, and the deputy wonders what the hell is going on.“What do you mean?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from asking too many questions at once.Jacob sighs, bone deep and weary as he ticks off fingers “Me. Joseph. John. Eden’s Gate. This fucking meet up. Take your pick.”“Okay, but what does all that have to do with me? If you forgot, I’m trying to destroy all of it.”“Exactly.” Jacob looks like he’s pulling teeth as he speaks “And I want you to keep doing it.”Rook thinks it’s completely justifiable that his brain takes a minute to reboot and process Jacob’s words.“What?”
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge & Jacob Seed, Male Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47
Collections: Far Cry 5





	1. Honey Badger Don’t Care

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was reading up on Jacob, because I’m replaying Far Cry 5 (again) for the first time in a long while, and I ending up reading this:
> 
> “He also frequently fought with Joseph and blames himself deep down for how corrupt things have become despite his ability to prevent it.”
> 
> It inspired me to write Jacob trying to save his family, and to explore the relationship between the brothers more.
> 
> Rook’s here because I love Rook and writing his chaotic dumbass is so much fun. Plus, I like to think of him as like an anime protagonist where everyone is like “he’s inspired me” despite being a literal calamity magnet.
> 
> Super important too: I wrote this and got eighty percent through when I remembered “Predatory Mammals” by Littlebiscuits.  
> It’s one of my favorite fanfics (read it if you haven’t, I reread it after writing this and 😍) and, while I didn’t mean to draw any kind of inspiration from it, there’s things in this chapter that are too similar for me to ignore.

Nick Rye is a  _ dead man. _

He’s going to shoot that dumb bastard from the sky, then watch him crash and burn with glee.

Rook spits a string of profanities that could make Adelaide blush, and dives off the edge of a shallow drop, skidding gracelessly into thick shrubbery. 

Behind him the terrifying chatter of angry badgers only gets louder, and the deputy-turned-resistance-fighter scrambles to untangle himself from branches and leaves. 

He’s going to shoot that dumb bastard from the sky, then watch him crash and burn with glee.

He’d rather deal with angels, or listen to John’s uncomfortable and vaguely sexual radio monologues, than this.

“This” being running for his life from a group of badgers drugged to the gills with Bliss from the nearby river, while Nick is laughing his ass off over the radio.

It had started off as an innocent enough call for help from a group of civilians, one that Jerome sent Rook to answer.

He was told that something was coming in from the woods, attacking people and livestock, tearing up belongings- some people even claimed it was a bear they’d seen.

It wouldn't have been the first time he’d squared off against a bear, nor would it have been the last, so Rook hadn’t been too worried when Jerome shared the details.

But why Rook thought it’d be a good idea to let Nick tag along is becoming more and more a mystery by the moment.

The asshole flies a  _ plane _ , what good was he against woodland creatures?

_ “I’ll be able to see ahead!”  _ The man had offered jovially  _ “In case it’s a big one or if there’s more than one, I’ll have your back!”  _

Rook and Nick may have also been half drunk on homemade shine at this point as well.

He’s starting to understand why Grace and Jess bring his intelligence to question more often than not.

Rook’s not a plan ahead kind of guy, he’s a “fly by the seat of your pants, make shit up as you go, and hope to God you don’t die” kind of guy. 

So when Nick volunteered to be his eyes in the sky for this mission, Rook hadn’t thought anything of it while drunk- or sober the next morning when they headed out.

Until now.

“ _ Ho-ly  _ shit, man!” Nick cackles over the radio, startling Rook into nearly breaking his ankle on a tree root “When they said animal attacks, I thought they meant bears or something, not wolverines! Them tiny sonsabitches ain’t so scary, just shoot ‘em, Deputy!”

“They’re badgers,” Rook grits, pressing the button on the radio so hard it creaks, wolverines would have been much less embarrassing “And I can’t.”

Not since he dropped his only rifle in the goddamn river like a dumbass, effectively ruining it. 

He’s got a rather intimidating hunting knife, several sleek sharp throwing ones, and a warped metal bat from taking it to some peggies’ head a few times too many. But there’s no way in hell he’s getting close enough to one of those rabid bastards without taking some serious damage.

There’s also several sticks of dynamite and the makings of some Molotov cocktails, but Rook thinks those last two are probably overkill.

There’s a snarling snap of jaws far too close to Rooks Achilles’ tendon, making Rook shout another obscenity and kick the animal back.

“Why the hell not?” Nick hollers “You some wildlife activist or some shit? Not that I care, but c’mon, Rook, the damn things are trying to eat you!”

“Then  _ you  _ shoot them!” Rook snaps, hauling ass up the first stable enough tree he sees

The only problem is the first tree branch is a ten feet climb away.

_ Goddamn it. _

What he wouldn’t do for Cheeseburger right now.

“I can’t seem ‘em through the tree line, it’s too damn thick! I’d probably shoot you first!” Nick argues

“Fuuuu-” Rook drags, exasperated, grinding his forehead against the rough bark of the tree he’s clinging to, trying to keep from sliding down into the jowls of Bliss rabid badgers. 

He’d always imagined himself dying in a firefight against Eden’s Gate, or maybe in some badass explosion, seeing how for the past two months he’s done nothing but trapeze across Hope County fighting a heavily armed cult. Not in the teeth of a handful of furry forest animals that are sparkling green from the local water supply.

Wait- can’t badgers climb? 

“I’m going to get mauled to death,” Rook wheezes to himself, clawing his way up “And it’s not even by a bear.”

He’s seriously considering the dynamite at this point, losing his hearing and a leg would be worth it- probably.

Rook almost reaches the first sturdy branch when he hears a series of muffled shots, several impact thuds, and cutoff warbled badger cries.

Then nothing.

“... Nick?” Rook calls, unsure, not wanting to risk turning around in case it’s a group of peggies about to shoot a man treed by badgers- which it probably is, seeing how Nick’s  _ above  _ Rook.

Think positive, Rook.

“Not quite.”

_ Shit shit shit- _

Rook grabs the thick branch, breathing out a small prayer of mercy to whoever might be listening. Maybe they’d be kind enough to drop a gun from the sky, or magically teleport Rook far,  _ far _ , away.

Like Larry and the aliens.

“You can come down now.” The man behind him offers blandly, as if Rook’s being  _ dumb  _ for staying as far away as possible.

“Uh, thanks, but,” Rook huffs as he pulls himself securely atop the thick branch, holding on tight with his thighs “I just got up here and the view’s too good not to enjoy.”

Below, Jacob Seed huffs a small sound that a lesser man with no survival instinct would call a laugh.

Rook is no such man.

He’s net Jacob a grand total of once, when he’d been captured (sneaking up on a man in the middle of a two AM piss is  _ not cool _ , and he let Jacob know that) by his Hunters and woken up tied to a chair watching grizzly wolf projections.

He figured he was mad about what happened at the F.A.N.G center, when he’d gotten Cheeseburger and left Jacob about thirty men short.

It had been… enlightening, to say the least.

Jacob successfully scared Rook shitless in under two hours without having to do much of anything, he could’ve killed Rook easy, or given him over to Joseph, but instead-

Instead he let Rook leave with Staci Pratt in tow after completing the Bliss infused “training” Jacob is so fond of.

He definitely does  _ not  _ remember Jacob’s voice in his ear, the gravely praise that made that deep buried part of Rook flutter. The part of himself that, after everything he’s done and been through for Hope, is greedy for honest approval that isn’t muddled together with the next job that needs to be done. 

It’s been twenty three days since then, not that he’s counting or anything.

Staci had been beaten to hell and back, he still had night terrors of whatever the hell Jacob had done to him, and both him and Rook now shared a mutual hatred for music boxes. His mind’s been nothing but a jumbled mess of conflicting feelings and arguing with himself, all while shoving every fleeting thought of Jacob Seed in the farthest corner of his mind.

So, yeah, Rook’s perfectly fine in his tree thank you very much.

“You know, I could just shoot you down if I wanted.” Jacob calls up to him, resting an intimidating rifle across his shoulder

Well, shit.

Rook  _ could  _ throw the dynamite, but he has a feeling Jacob could shoot him a lot faster than he could throw it.

“Just to be clear,” He looks at Jacob, subtly clinging a little more to the tree branch “You  _ don’t  _ want to shoot me down- right?”

Jacob gives him a grin that’s all teeth and not at all reassuring.

“Rook!” Nick’s voice crackles over the radio, worried, startling Rook almost off the tree branch “You alright, man? Ain’t heard nothing from you, them badgers gone? Trees are too thick for me to see.”

“Yea-” Rook cringes at how high his voice is and clears his throat, ignoring Jacob’s obvious amusement “Yeah. Badgers are gone, we’re good down here if you want to head back and let the others know.”

“I’m on it! Be safe heading back!” Nick signs off far too chipper for Rook’s liking, but he’s just grateful the man didn’t catch his slip up.

_ “We’re good down here.” _

Rook’s not too sure about that.

“You brought Rye to hunt badgers?” Jacob asks, and Rook can  _ feel  _ the judgement from his perch “The hell was he going to do? Annoy them to death?”

Yeah- Rook’s got no argument for that.

“Seemed like a good idea when he offered.” He shrugs, trying to save face

“We’re you drunk when he offered?”

Damnit.

“... No?” Rook flushes an unflattering ruddy color, looking away 

Jacob doesn’t torment him further, choosing instead to get a closer look at the dead badgers laying at the base of the tree, propping his rifle against a large rock. 

Rook bites his tongue against warning Jacob to be careful.

“Let me guess,” He drawls, toeing one with his boot “Bliss in the river?”

He doesn’t sound happy, and Rook frowns in confusion as he peers down at the man “Yeah, it’s in most the water supply, there’s lots of stuff like this happening.”

But Jacob knows that already, hell, his Hunters are on the shit and he uses it on his freaking wolves.

So why does he look so upset about this?

“Hate this shit,” He grunts, having leaned down to move the carcasses “But Joseph- no, the  _ Father, _ ” He corrects himself and spits the title like a curse “Says it’s what God gave Faith so we have to use it.”

What?

“You think I  _ want  _ this poison in my men?” Jacob scoffs, and Rook realizes he’s spoken out loud “I barely get away with giving the wolves the most diluted amount possible because they scare the other three shitless.”

That’s… almost nice to hear, Rook guesses.

But he’s still not getting out of the tree.

“Then what’s with all your ‘ _ culling the herd _ ’ bullshit and what about what you did to Pratt?” He can’t help but ask, needing to rebalance Jacob as a psychotic maniac in his mind, Bliss or no Bliss

Jacob pauses, examining the blood on his hands before wiping them carelessly on his jeans “What? You rather me do nothing and let John take him for conversion?”

Rook thinks of Hudson and the angry red scars across his chest.

“But you-”

“Look,” Jacob cuts him off, breathing hard through his nose “I’m not saying I didn’t do some messed up shit to your pal or those Whitetails in the mountains. I’m not saying I don’t like conditioning my men, what I’m saying is I don’t like the fucking Bliss, not get your ass down here before I shoot it down.”

Rook doesn’t move.

“Goddamnit, why do you have to be so difficult? If I wanted to hurt you I’ve had the last two miles to do so.”

Two miles?

“Have you been following me?” Rook almost feels scandalized, but mainly feels stupid for not realizing one of the most dangerous men in probably this half of the country has been behind him for miles.

“You’re not hard to find, Deputy.” Jacob says flatly, unimpressed 

He’s not wrong.

Ugh. Fine.

Rook carefully makes his way down the tree, making sure to keep his eyes firmly on the older man the entire descent until his boots hit solid ground.

“Happy now, asshole?” He gripes, arms crossed, Jacob only gives him another flat look “What do you even want?”

Jacob rolls his shoulders, trying to appear casual but this close Rook can see the tension bunching the man’s muscles.

He’s  _ nervous _ .

“Jacob?” He cautions, unfolding his arms and stepping closer

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The man says, seemingly unwillingly, and suddenly Rook’s seeing a tired and beaten down man at the end of his rope, as Jacob sags from his usual composed posture.

Rook can make out dark smudges beneath the man’s eyes, exhaustion written in every line of his face, and the deputy wonders what the hell is going on.

“What do you mean?” He asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from asking too many questions at once.

Jacob sighs, bone deep and weary as he ticks off fingers “Me. Joseph. John. Eden’s Gate. This fucking meet up. Take your pick.”

“Okay, but what does all that have to do with me? If you forgot, I’m trying to destroy all of it.”

“Exactly.” Jacob looks like he’s pulling teeth as he speaks “And I want you to keep doing it.”

Rook thinks it’s completely justifiable that his brain takes a minute to reboot and process Jacob’s words.

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Don’t act stupid.” The other man grouses, arms crossing “Joseph thinks God speaks to him, acts like some humble prophet, but he’s doing a hell of a lot more than just spouting sermons.”

Rook runs a hand through his hair, his own nerves starting to jitter “Jacob, you’re not making any sense.” He almost whines, feeling like smokes coming out his ears

Why would Jacob want Eden’s Gate gone, and what does Joseph being a fraud (not news to Rook) have to do with his crazy ass cult? Rook thought Jacob would’ve wanted information like that kept under lock and key, seeing how he’s  _ the soldier.  _ People finding out Joseph isn’t hearing from God like he claims could insight internal strife, especially between the higher members.

Jacob grits his teeth, chewing on words Rook figured he won’t be hearing “I’m telling you that if you keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll help keep the others off your back, what the hell else could you need to know?”

“Is this a test?” Rook blurts, jaw slack “Am I tripping on Bliss-  _ are you a hallucination _ ?”

Oh, God, Rook’s starting to doubt what in the last six hours was real or a drug fueled illusion- Is he going to wake up on Joseph’s statue again? 

Jacob looks like he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or be pissed off, his grimace warping on his scarred face. He settles for his usual indifference, but Rook sees there’s a light in his eyes that he hasn’t been there before.

“Take this,” Jacob commands, shoving a scrap of paper in Rook’s hands from his breast pocket “It’s the main source of Bliss into the mountains.”

Rook blinks at the neatly printed numbers across the yellowed paper, it looks like a torn corner of a map, they’re coordinates that he recognizes from months of traversing across the county. He looks back up at Jacob, but the man has already picked back up his gun and walking off, and he calls for the man to stop.

He does, but he doesn’t turn back to Rook.

“What are you getting from this?” He asks, confusion mounting “What happens if Joseph finds out about this?”

“He’ll probably try to make me compliant, or kill me.” Jacob shrugs, still looking ahead “Why, you care what happens to me?”

Rook bites down on an indecisive feeling, not liking the lurch in his stomach “I care about saving Hope.” He forces out, despite knowing Jacob can see right through him.

Rook’s always had a soft heart, it didn’t matter who a person was, he’d always tried to help people who looked like they needed it, and Jacob-

Jacob looked like he needed someone right now, Rook can see the small tremor down his shoulders and through his fingers, his gun rattling just so in his grip.

“You remind me of the man I wanted to be, when I was younger,” Jacob murmurs, sounding almost wistful “Before everything went to shit. Maybe I want to know I tried at least once before I died to be better than what I am. Happy?”

The words make Rook feel like he’s being allowed to see something no one knew existed: Jacob’s weakness, that he’s just a lost man underneath all the stone and blood he seems to be made of. He shuffles, not sure how to respond, and slips the paper carefully into his pocket.

“Fifty isn’t old,” Rook tries to alleviate the tension, giving a small smile the other can’t see “You’ve got plenty of time to become that man. You don’t have to stay the same forever.”

“I’m not fifty, asshole, not yet anyways.” Jacob snorts, resuming his pace, gun slung over his shoulder, seemingly ignoring the rest of the other man’s words.

Rook is left standing in the middle of the woods, the paper burning a hole in his pocket, and more questions than answers. 

Especially seeing how he didn’t actually get any answers.

_ “Fuck.”  _ He thinks to himself.

He’s really about to help Jacob Seed.

He looks at the dead badgers, each clean killed with a headshot, and sighs into the silence.

Until one of the corpses twitches, and Rook’s  _ gone _ .


	2. Cotton Candy Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why buy it when you can build it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I clicked the wrong box and it was showing up as a complete work (=_=“) 
> 
> No. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write anything under 10k in my life.
> 
> So here’s chapter two!
> 
> It’s Jacob’s POV, and I’d like to think I did his character justice even with the turn I’m taking in this AU. Mental illness is different for each person, and you don’t really get a good look into Jacob’s PTSD in the game. It was easier to do the self depreciation (‘cause that’s my brand) so I focused more on that than anything that would’ve been a potential trigger. I don’t want to inaccurately portray anything, so for now I’m just kind of mentioning it as I get more research.
> 
> I also have no idea how to rig a cotton candy machine, so you’ll have to find a tutorial.

It had started with a simple statement.

_ “You know what I miss? Cotton candy.” _

Now, it’s a pile of wires and mechanical knick knacks cluttering Jacob’s floor as he tries to rig together a cotton candy machine for his youngest brother. 

Who’s thirty.

Jacob doesn’t know what compelled him to try this, he’s got a list of shit to do a mile long and his radio’s been going off nonstop since yesterday afternoon.

_ “Trespassers at the Bliss pumps!” _

_ “We need back up!” _

_ “Fuck!” _

_ “The Deputy and Armstrong have taken out the Bliss supply in Whitetail! I repeat the-” _

Jacob steadily ignores the panic, wiring the heating element of a heat lamp with a soft hum of consideration. Even Faith had tried to contact him, but he’d turned off her constant stream of paranoid questions after about three minutes. 

_ “Poor girl.”  _ He thinks, remembering the first few days after Joseph had found her strung out and vulnerable. 

He shakes away the thought, refocusing on what’s important, on why he’s keeping himself busy with random tinkering instead of barking orders into his radio.

It’s been three days since he’d woken up from another nightmare, one about Joseph standing, disembodied and broken, over the corpses of John and himself while Jacob watched helplessly, unable to move. Three days since he’d grabbed his rifle and left with one thought in mind, one that he’s reluctant to admit has been there more often than not lately.

_ Rook. _

He’s a pain in the ass, dumb as a bag of rocks, but he’s also the most genuine man Jacob’s met in years.

A flash of Miller crosses his mind, and Jacob shuts it away behind steel walls with a scowl.

Jacob found himself thinking a lot more than he should lately, a methodical self reflection that leaves him angry and disappointed in his own weakness.

He’d been an angry kid, always fighting with Joseph for no reason, antagonizing their father, Jacob couldn’t ever remember a time he wasn’t angry. Always feeling  _ something  _ festering under his skin, a viscous entity writhing for freedom, smothering what little good may have lived in Jacob at some point.

The army had been good for Jacob, giving him an acceptable outlet for his rage, it taught him how to think clearly through the red haze in his mind. He allowed himself to be sharpened into the perfect weapon, honing skills until he felt invincible, with no weakness.

Now, though, Jacob wonders if he’d ever truly been strong.

A strong man wouldn’t have given into anger and abandoned his family, he would’ve stayed and protected them until he was old enough to get them out. 

A strong man wouldn’t have to drug his men into compliance, they’d respect him for his leadership skills and ability to make them strong as well.

A strong man would have pulled Joseph from whatever pit of insanity he’d fallen into and slapped some goddamn sense into him, not tuck tail and allow himself to be walked all over. 

A strong man would have told John that this isn’t the way to get the love and approval he so desperately craves, that Jacob would’ve been proud of him no matter what-

Jacob is brought back to by the sudden flare of hot across his palm, making him jerk and drop his project with a sharp curse. He looks down at the heating element, bright orange and smoking, and his bloodied palm before sighing and killing the power to it.

He’s wrapping the stinging wound with gauze when there’s a knock at his door, Jacob grunts for them to come in.

Joseph walks in, eyes obscured by those damned shades as he looks around Jacob’s room, he’s dressed in a plain button down and a vest most likely given to him by John, as his boots click ominously across the linoleum.

“I see you’ve been busy.” He comments idly, but Jacob knows condemnation when he hears it.

It’s obvious he’s here about the Bliss, expecting an answer to Jacob’s radio silence, but Jacob’s not feeling very generous towards the Father today.

They stand in silence, staring at one another, and Jacob knows he’s supposed to look away first in respect to Joseph.

He doesn’t.

“The deputy is here, Jacob, in your region, and you’ve been nowhere to be found.” Joseph points out, in that soft drawl that makes you want to let your guard down, as if he’s worried about you “This is an opportunity to bring him to us, you know as well as I do the importance he has.”

Jacob wonders if Joseph understands how well that’s not going to work, that Rook would rather throw himself into fire and damnation than join Eden’s Gate.

“I sent my Hunters after him, if he’s still around they’ll have him by sundown.” Jacob shrugs, turning back to his abandoned project, deciding it doesn’t matter what his brother thinks.

He’s not in the mood to deal with Joseph, but he promised Rook he’d keep the others off his trail, which is why he really did send a couple groups of men his way.

Rook’s a big boy, he can handle himself.

“You ignored Faith as well,” His brother continues “Jacob, I know you’re not fond of her-”

“Rachel.” Jacob bites out, unable to tamp down his agitation on this subject, making the other pause before sighing 

“This again?” Joseph seems put out, like Jacob is being unreasonable “We’ve discussed this, she is our sister, God brought her to us when we were in need.”

_ “Like the others?”  _ Jacob wants to demand, thinking of the dead women this “Faith” has replaced.

He doesn’t, choosing instead to pick the pieces of his candy machine up and put them on his desk

“Jacob,” Joseph cautions “Are you doubting?”

_ Fuck _ .

“No,” He breathes hard from his nose, clenching his unharmed hand “Just having a rough day is all.”

He looks at the machinery on the table and wonders if he’s actually ever seen John eat cotton candy, but, then again, John was three when Jacob last saw him as a child. 

Something awful gnaws at his gut, reminding him he abandoned a  _ toddler  _ and came back to a monster wearing his baby brother’s face-  _ both  _ of them. He knows that out of the three of them John had it the worst, yet he’d still managed to make something of himself.

Jacob often thought of what John may have been if Joseph had never found him.

What would all of them have become if Jacob hadn’t fucked up in that barn almost thirty years ago?

A warm hand on his shoulder reminds him he’s still got company, he lets Joseph pull him in close, let’s their heads touch, and he lets Joseph speak.

“I know there is much that troubles you, but you must stay strong and have faith, God is close- the Collapse is upon us- and He  _ will  _ open the gates of Eden to us.”

That’s right, the Collapse.

Nuclear fucking warfare.

It’s on the radio constantly, certain channels going on and on about the ever approaching end of the world.

Joseph says it’s God. Jacob knows better.

If the giant ass bunkers they’d built wasn’t a blaring hint of what was expected to go down, Jacob doesn’t know what is. He’s a veteran, they’d been talking about this since  _ he  _ was still in basic, he always knew the world was going to blow itself up.

He didn’t expect Joseph to use it as the catalyst for Eden’s Gate, however. 

Jacob used to find solace in Joseph’s words, thinking they gave him a purpose and validated his strength. Now, they make Jacob want to throw himself into hell itself for what he’s allowed to happen.

He’s past saving, there’s nothing left but a broken down and washed up soldier, he knows what kind of man he is and what he’s done. Joseph didn’t have to give him any kind of fancy sermon or revelation, he just gave Jacob another outlet for his anger and general fucked up behavior.

He conditions men and women because they’re  _ weak _ and Jacob hates weakness, and he trains Judges because he likes the thrill of working with an apex predator.

Jacob knows, though, he can see where he’s been influenced by his brother and where his ideals bleed into Jacob’s. He likes to think he wouldn’t have forced those people, that he would have been able to be satisfied with offering strength and taking in those who came.

Then again, Jacob’s beginning to realize he doesn’t have any strength to offer.

It’s all Joseph, he’s the head, the leader,  _ the Father _ , and Jacob’s nothing but a puppet on strings. Muscle. An intimidation tactic.

Rook, however, Rook is stronger than all of them, and that’s why Jacob can’t seem to get the man out of his head. He kneels for no man, could easily destroy everything Joseph’s built, he just needs a little direction that Jacob’s glad to offer.

He’s reminded of Miller again, thinking about Rook, and how Miller had always seen Jacob as  _ more _ despite everything he knew about him. Even when Jacob had cracked under the scathing Afghanistan sun and starvation, half out of his mind from dehydration and exhaustion, he remembers-

_ “Thank you, Jacob.” Miller wheezed, relief flooding his eyes as Jacob  _ squeezed,  _ what little moisture his body had escaping him in a single tear before his body slumped lifeless into the blistering sand. _

He hadn’t been strong then, because he didn’t kill Miller out of mercy, he’d killed his best friend because he was scared.

“I know,” Jacob mutters, pulling away from Joseph “I’ve been seeing ghosts, and needed to distract myself. I’m sorry, brother”

The last thing he wants to discuss is his PTSD, an untreated invisible illness that causes Jacob to lose himself to the past, but it’s the easiest way to get Joseph to drop the subject. The apology tastes bitter in his mouth, 

Joseph squeezes his arm in reassurance, but Jacob doesn’t feel anything past the slight pressure.

“I know these are trying times, but the Lord tests us in these times, and He will deliver you from your sins, Jacob.” 

Jacob watches his brother step away, going to leave before pausing in the doorway “See to it that the pumps are repaired, and that you apologize to Faith, God does not forgive those with unforgiveness in their hearts.”

Joseph lets the door swing shut behind him, leaving Jacob to his half built candy machine and swirling thoughts.

He silently goes back to building, shoving the last ten minutes as far back in his mind as possible -he knows compartmentalism is an unhealthy coping mechanism but there isn’t much  _ healthy  _ about Jacob to begin with- as he works out how to make this hunk of metal spin without becoming a homemade fire tornado.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, he’s not paying attention to the sun creeping across the horizon, at some point he has to turn on a lamp to see. There're several new burns across Jacob’s hands that he barely feels, but they make the ones across his face itch with phantom pain that he ignores well enough.

When he’s finally finished, having checked and double checked and rechecked, he lets the machine spin for a few idle minutes with a proud smirk before a thought washes him cold.

_ “What the fuck do I even put in this thing?” _

Probably sugar, he’s trying to remember something he has almost no experience with, or is that to coarse? Don’t these machines come with the powder?

Shit.

He can’t ask John, that’d give away the surprise.

_ “When’d you get so goddamn soft, Seed?”  _ He asks himself, picking up a radio and dialing the proper frequency.

“You there?” He asks, gruff and short

“- _ Jacob? _ ” Comes the shocked reply, distorted by static, making the man in question roll his eyes

“No, it’s fucking Shirley.” He bites, but there’s amusement creeping in his tone 

“Grandma Shirley?” The radio mocks “It’s been twenty years! How’s hell treating you?”

_ Mother fucker- _

Jacob  _ laughs _ , a loud bark of surprise, it feels weird in his throat after so long but he finds he likes it.

“I didn’t know you could laugh.” 

Jacob pauses, cursing his pale complexion, but grateful to be alone as his ears burn at the comment “Don’t sound so cocky, Rook, it doesn’t make you special or some shit.”

“No,” Rook agrees, but he sounds far to smug for Jacob’s liking “I’m thinking I was already special.”

Jacob’s ears burn hotter and he wants to chuck the radio, he was such dumbass for thinking that asking Rook was a good idea. He figured the bastard would know, seeing how he’s only been in Hope a few months and seems to have had a normal upbringing.

“Special brand of stupid, maybe.” Jacob allowed, feeling his control returning at Rook’s indignant sound

“Asshole.” Rook bites, but he’s snickering, the damn brat.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure at-” Rook pauses, he hears shuffling over the static “4:47 in the morning?”

Jesus, Jacob breathes through his teeth, it’s been fourteen hours since he’d started.

Too late to back out now.

“How do you make cotton candy?” He asks, going for blunt to hide his embarrassment

Silence.

Jacob’s nerves are mounting, making his palm clammy around the radio as he tells himself he’s being a bitch when the line clicks back to life and almost scares him shitless.

“You’re serious?” Rook gapes, then the line clicks a few more times almost imitating the dumb way his mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.

“Do I sound like I’m taking a piss?” He grouches, staring holes into his machine as he waits

“No, shit, uh- hold on.” Rook scrambles, and it’s quiet for about twenty seconds 

“Why are you making cotton candy?” Comes Rook’s voice, it’s clearer now, and Jacob’s sure he stepped outside wherever he is.

“John said something about it the other day, got me curious.” Jacob won’t admit out loud his soft heart, even if it’s obvious.

“So, what? You found a machine and realized you didn’t know what you were doing?”

“No, I  _ built  _ a machine then realized I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Wait.” Rook sounds contrite “You’re telling me you can  _ build a cotton candy machine _ but don’t know how to make the cotton candy?”

Jacob’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t answer, instead he walks to the window of his room and looks out at the slowly brightening sky.

Rook fucking  _ howls _ , laughing hard and raucous, and Jacob knows the asshole is holding the button down just so he can hear the other man.

“Holy shit, Jacob, you’re fucking  _ incredible,  _ you know that?”

Jacob knows that Rook’s playing with him, but his words make his gut sizzle with warmth all the same, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Okay, okay,” Rook sounds breathless, trying to compose himself “Shit, that was too good. I’m pretty sure sugar is fine, or even crushed hard candies, we had one when I was a kid you could melt your favorite candies into- until Reece thought he could put chocolate chips in and ruined the whole thing.”

“Reece?” Jacob frowns

“My older brother.” Rook supplies

“Ah,” Jacob muses “You must be the baby then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you’re a pain in the ass, like John is, and I bet you got away with plenty of shit yourself.” 

Like John is now, that youngest sibling attitude coming in twenty eight years late.

Rook chuckles, it’s a warm sound that makes Jacob wonder what he looks like right now. He bats those thoughts away, trying to focus on the man on the other end of the radio and not his ridiculous thought process.

“You’re not wrong. So does that make you an incorrigible ass?” Rook quips, and Jacob’s breath stutters in his throat.

He thinks of years of fighting with Joseph, badgering his father so he’d hit him and not the other two, ignoring an emotionally vacant mother until she wasn’t there at all. Of CPS and the barn, those assholes that would work a three year old boy until he collapsed, the fire that he ruined everything with when he just couldn’t take anymore.

He wonders what Rook’s brother is like, and the obviously fond memories they share.

Could Jacob have had that? 

It doesn’t do him any good wondering about what could have been, he’s got too much that  _ is  _ to be worrying about.

He clicks the button on the radio

“It makes me smarter than your dumbass, that’s for sure.” He deflects, steering away from the lead weight in his chest.

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” Rook huffs, taking some of the weight off the other man “I’m going back to bed, don’t get blown up or poisoned with defective candy.”

Jacob snorts, not deigning that with an answer, as the rising sun washes away the night sky with soft pinks and pale blues, letting the silence lull his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s soft boi hours.
> 
> You can find me in the Red Dead fandom too! (If you’re interested in cowboy romance and whatnot.)
> 
> And the formatting is garbage because I write on my phone, seeing how I can’t hook a typewriter to the internet and my laptop is MIA.


	3. Hot Hot Loaded Like A Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rook is dumb for Soft Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob’s chapters: Interesting character insight, world building, and plot
> 
> Rook’s: This
> 
> I’m not even mad.
> 
> ♥️♥️♥️Enjoy♥️♥️♥️

When Rook wakes back up, two hours later than usual with a lingering warmth in his chest, he stares at the radio he’d dropped on the table after his late night call.

From Jacob.

He gives a groggy chuckle, rubbing down his face to wake himself up before hauling himself out of bed. His bare feet pad across the floor, unbothered by the cool wood flooring, as he scratched his stomach and yawns. Dressing on autopilot, Rook thinks back over his and Jacob’s conversation and wonders what actually is going on in the older man’s head.

When he’d heard Jacob crackle over his radio, he’d nearly crashed from the bed, it was placed on the nightstand so any emergency call would wake him up easily. Jacob Seed sounding so close to his ear had the half awake deputy convinced the man had snuck into his room, and the lack of alarm at the notion had been what startled him awake.

There was something in Rook that couldn’t help but give Jacob shit, especially when he started it, there was something satisfying about knowing at least one Seed wasn’t completely miserable to interact with.

But then Jacob fucking  _ laughed _ . A full bellied laugh that Rook felt was pulled from somewhere Jacob probably didn’t even know existed, and Rook could’ve swore his whole word narrowed down to that sound for a moment.

Jacob probably thought his baffled statement was rude, but Rook couldn’t help the awe filled words from tumbling from his mouth.

Rook made Jacob Seed laugh at a jab to his dead grandmother.

It was a deep and throaty sound, scratchy from disuse, but it made Rook’s insides curl in a deep rooted satisfaction that he’d done that. The noise gave Rook a heady feeling, that mixed with his sleep slurred brain, gave him the confidence to push just that much more when Jacob called him cocky.

_ “I’m thinking I was already special.” _

“What the  _ fuck _ , Rook?” He asks himself on his way into the bathroom, ignoring the red creeping across his cheeks and nose in the mirror as he brushes his teeth.

Jacob hadn’t denied it though, his brain unhelpfully supplies, remembering the moment of radio silence before the older man had insulted him.

He  _ deflected  _ it.

Rook does not fist pump the air, but it’s a close thing, instead he settles for grinning like a frothy moron at his reflection before cleaning up.

The deputy had been expecting to hear about his and Grace’s spectacular job of destroying the Bliss pumps, that not so buried part of himself eager for Jacob’s brand of praise. So, hearing Jacob ask about  _ cotton candy  _ of all things had thrown Rook and the man had to step outside to make sure his radio was working.

Then Jacob says he  _ built the machine  _ as if he wasn’t dropping some kind of bomb on Rook.

The sudden mental image of Jacob Seed curled over random machinery, face stern in concentration as he tries to build a candy machine with the same efficiency he does everything else. He imagines oil stained fingers, rough hissed curses when something went awry, and steely blue eyes.

Was he estatatic when it worked? Or did he have that same pleased crooked smile he gave Rook when he’d given him Staci weeks ago?

A loud bark jerks Rook to attention with a loud swear, and he whips his head out of the bathroom to see an impatient Boomer sitting on his bed wiggling with excitement.

“You ready to roll, boy?” He chuckles, Boomer barking excitedly before darting to Rook’s feet for pets. Rook indulges him until his stomach growls for sustenance, and then they’re off to find something for breakfast.

Nick and Kim are in the kitchen, talking idly as Carmina garbles at her bottle, their breakfast already finished. Boomer’s excited panting and clicking nails catch their attention, the two looking at Rook in amusement.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty.” Kim smirks, Nick chuckling next to her

Rook waves her off, but makes sure to stop and spout gibberish at Carmina until her mother is shoving him away with a look of mild disgust and a reminder of “We’re talking to her normally, Rook, quit being an asshole.”

He grins, big and obnoxious, with no plans to stop (he’s lying, he only ever does this when he wants to bother Kim. He’s been calling random things scientific dinosaur names when he’s stuck on babysitting duty, she likes to mouth along with him.)

He fries some sausage and bacon for him and Boomer, grateful that livestock farming has picked up since he’d started thinning the amount of peggies overtaking farmland in the county. He doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to consume store bought eggs and milk again. 

Rook had ended up with a room at the Rye’s shortly after Carmina was born, Nick and Kim scared that they wouldn’t be enough to protect their baby girl.

They’d turned to her godfather and offered to give him the spare bedroom, which worked great because Rook was tired of sleeping in trees or on rooftops. 

“We were wondering what was taking so long,” Nick muses as Rook flips bacon “You never sleep late, and Carmina was getting fussy without her Addie.”

Rook turns sharply, pointing his spatula threateningly at Nick with a dark look “ _ Don’t  _ call me that.” He warns, but Nick is unaffected.

Fucking Adelaide making a big deal about Rook’s name and giving the Ryes ammunition against him for all of eternity.

“Oh, come on! It’s a great name, Rook.” Nick snickers

Rook huffs, ignoring the man as he turns and pulls his food before it burns. Boomer gets his portion, happily chomping away as Rook sits at the table next to Kim who deposits baby Rye into his lap the moment his ass touches wood. 

He doesn’t complain, his hands are large enough to comfortably hold Carmina and eat at the same time, he’s done the same thing with Reece’s kids countless times. She burbles at him, pudgy little fingers tugging at his shirt and trying to pry into his mouth, she’s only a couple months old but already leaps and bounds ahead of other babies her age he’d met. He bounces her gently, entertaining her by pretending to bite at her palms when she reaches high enough.

It’s relaxing, giving Rook a boost of serotonin he’ll likely need before the morning’s over.

Today he’s supposed to meet Sharky and start culling through Bliss sources along the Henbane, something that’s been heavy on the front of his mind since talking with Jacob. He knows the Bliss is the means of controlling cultists that didn’t willingly join Eden’s gate, and it’s used to create human weapons like Angels. 

Jacob seems to think he doesn’t need the Bliss for his men or Judges, and Rook wonders if the man is right.

Chewing thoughtfully on his bacon,  _ not _ the baby, he mulls over his time in Jacob’s hold and wonders what it would have been like without the Bliss. Sure, it wouldn’t be all weird and floaty and shit, but Rook thinks it would’ve still been an experience he wouldn’t have forgotten. 

Though, he figures that’s more telling about Jacob than the Bliss.

“So,” Nick starts, relaxed in his chair “What’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Deputy?”

Rook huffs a laugh, getting up and putting his plate in the sink, Carmina cooing in delight at the new line of sight “Going to burn some shit down with Sharky, then probably catch up with Mary May on my way back.”

“Oh, hell yeah! Sounds like a party!” Nick whoops, excited as Boomer

“Too bad you’re needed elsewhere.” Kim cuts in, far too gleeful at the sight of her husband deflating 

“Thank God for that, I’m still recovering from the badgers.” Rook says as he pops Carmina into Kim’s arms

Nick huffs an indignant sound, arms crossed “We thought they were bears! How was I supposed to know they were tiny sumsabitches?” 

Kim and Rook chuckle, the latter giving his farewells before heading out with Boomer to the truck. He checks the time -9:29- and figures he’s got plenty of time still before Sharky’s ready to head out, so he opts for rolling down the windows and enjoying the ride with Boomer. 

Unfortunately, this is Hope County and enjoying the ride means driving through a roadblock, shooting twelve peggies, and blowing up your truck.

He liked this truck.

Now Rook has to make do with a stolen Eden’s Gate truck, stopping once to paint over the obnoxious insignia. The truck smells like body odor, a sickly sweet floral undertone that’s obviously Bliss, and blood. 

Boomer hates it, Rook hates it, hell, Rook’s pretty sure the  _ truck  _ hates it with how awful the thing squeals and groans.

And of-frickin’-course the radio is permanently jammed to  _ Eden’s Gate’s  _ station, meaning Rook has to punch a hole in the dash that leaves his fist busted and bleeding.

He has no clue what time he gets to Sharky, but it was long enough for the man to get bored and start a fire atop his house. Again.

“The hell you been, Rook?!” Sharky bellows from his rooftop, barely audible over the hard rock streaming from his multiple speakers.

How this man has survived this long is a mystery to Rook.

Boomer is trying to run up the ramp to Sharky, whining and howling for the man’s attention, and it gives Rook a good enough distraction to pull the plug on the loud music.

Sweet relief.

“Hey!” Sharky shouts “Not cool!”

“Get your ass down here and let’s go, Boshaw!”

“You’re the one who was late!”

Rook gives him the finger before turning and getting started on loading the supplies they’ll need for the day: gasoline, dynamite, Molotovs, and Sharky’s secondary flamethrower. 

He also takes the 1981 Pygmalion Hillside- Sharky had commandeered it due to the flames- because he can, but he lets Sharky torch the peggy truck in return.

The rest of the day goes by pretty great, if you ask Rook.

There’s plenty of Bliss to burn through along the river, and even more peggies to shoot, and Rook lets Sharky keep the windows down to play music out of the truck.

Part of him wonders if it’s normal to have this much fun, or if it’s the beer Sharky had demanded they bring along for their day out.

For all the fun to be had, there’s a catch to getting rid of Bliss: the Bliss. 

Namely, slowly breathing in all the smoke and finding yourself stoned on flowers. Everything starts warping, Rook’s pretty sure half the colors he sees aren’t even real, and Sharky’s been trying to catch the sparkles on fire for fifteen minutes.

Fuck, he should probably take the fire from him.

He doesn’t want to get up though, laying in the shallow bank of the river to cool off with Boomer. S’nice.

Rook hums to himself, floaty limbed and content, pausing when the music changes 

_ ‘My baby he don't talk sweet _

_ He ain't got much to say’ _

He sits up too fast, the world spinning like a transitioning kaleidoscope, as he forces his fuzzy brain to fixate on the music 

_ ‘But he loves me, loves me, loves me _

_ I know that he loves me anyway’ _

Holy. Shit.

Rook’s not old enough for this song to be an iconic part of his childhood, he was born a couple years after Footloose had come out, but his mother loved the movie so much he and Reece practically grew up to it. He remembers dancing in the kitchen with her, giving in to all her theatrics while his older brother groaned how embarrassing they were. 

_ Fuck, he loves this song. _

He wonders if Jacob knows this song.

Not because it reminds him of the man or anything.

_ ‘And maybe he don't dress fine _

_ But I don't really mind _

_ Because every time he pulls me near _

_ I just want to cheer’ _

Not at all.

_ ‘Let's hear it for the boy _

_ Let's give the boy a hand _

_ Let's hear it for my baby _

_ You know you go to understand’ _

Jacob’s a murdering hardass, not some heartthrob from an eighties hit, but it doesn’t keep Rook from having scrambled atop the truck to belt the song as loud as he can. It doesn’t matter if Sharky’s falling all over himself laughing, or that there’s probably two convoy headed right for them, because this-

This is  _ Rook’s moment _ .

“ _ Whoa, maybe he's no Romeo _

_ But he's my lovin' one-man show _

_ Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa _

_ Let's hear it for the boy _ !”

Rook’s killing it, literall, Footloose’s legacy will live on through the deputy, and not that shitty remake that brought shame to Kevin Bacon (Who wasn’t even in the movie,  _ what the fuck- _ )

He’s owning the top of the truck like he was born for it, giving the Henbane a show he probably won’t remember tomorrow, and when a handful of peggies do make their way out to them. Well.

They’re in for a treat is all Rook has to say.

Until he has to start shooting them, then he’s screaming at three Sharky’s to get out of the way because he’s trying to fucking shoot here damnit.

He’s pretty sure he’s killing who he’s supposed to be, none of the Sharky’s are screaming in pain, and no one’s turned into a green puff of drug smoke yet. Boomer, or well black bear sized Boomer, is taking down peggies like wet paper, chasing runaways into the woods to finish them off.

That dog is such a badass.

Rook’s kicking ass and taking names, yodeling the Footloose soundtrack as he smashes in a man’s nose and shoots another in the knee, and he has no clue what they’re going to tell Joseph. 

He’s sure it’ll be funny as shit though.

He hopes he gets called Kevin Bacon, because who  _ doesn’t  _ want to get the shit kicked out of them by Kevin Bacon? Rook does, that’s for sure.

There’s a hand on his wrist when he’s gearing up for the chorus of  _ “Holding Out For A Hero”  _ that makes him jerk like he’s been shocked, a strangled sound akin to a dead animal escaping the deepest part of Rook’s soul.

“Easy there, Bonnie,” Jacob(?) chuckles, smooth and smoky like the whisky Rook prefers at Mary May’s “I think you got them all.”

He’s questioning if it’s actually Jacob because, even though Rook’s tripping balls harder than a junior soccer practice, he has enough wits to remember you see all sorts of shit on Bliss. It doesn’t stop part of Rook from turning to mush that maybe-Jacob knows who Bonnie Tyler is, however, or from putting his foot in his mouth.

“Didn’t get you- yet.” He winks (not really, he just fucking  _ blinks  _ real hard at the man, and, oh  _ god,  _ he’s going to die when he sobers up)

Maybe-Jacob just gives Rook this soft look that the deputy didn’t even know he was capable of, all gentle amusement and a fondness that makes his heart feel like it’s in a Full Nelson. 

Rook’s going to die, he’s going to die on the river, high as a kite with  _ Sharky,  _ while drooling over a hallucination of a psychotic war machine because  _ holy fuck he’s pretty _ .

The mentioned man sucks in a harsh breath, like the wind’s been punched from him, and his neck to his ears flush a ruddy red that makes Rook think of ripe strawberries on a hot summer day.

Drug Mist Jacob Seed is going to kill Rook far before any of the actual Seeds get a chance.

  
What a way to go.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bites ice cream*

**Author's Note:**

> I literally only exist to post garbage 
> 
> I am the trash panda of AO3


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